That Day
by Steerpike
Summary: She's singing her heart out in a pub, the lyrics sparking memories she'd rather not remember... based on Natalie Imbruglia's "That Day".


That Day  
  
Ginny propped her charts on the flimsy music stand in front of her. It buckled under the weight, so she adjusted the leg of it, shortening it until it stopped wobbling precariously. Finally, it stopped.  
  
She breathed out slowly. At twenty six, she'd had almost four years' experience in the Muggle music industry yet still the mechanisms of music stands eluded her.  
  
Her pianist, guitarist and right-hand-man, Darren, grinned at her from the floor of the small stage where he was plugging in the DI.  
  
"Never mind, Gin," Darryn said. "Muggles can't do it either."  
  
Ginny laughed. She'd always found it easier to perform with Darren. Darren had attended a completely different type of school to her, but she'd managed to locate him in her great search for an accompanist in the paper. From that day onwards, Ginny and Darren had been a tight duo. Sometimes she felt that Darren wanted more from her. When they got drunk together, she knew that he did, given his inebriated advances. But something in her wasn't ready to give yet.  
  
"Thank God." Ginny smiled back at him. "Need any help there?" He'd finished with the DI and was now checking the keyboard's power source.  
  
"Nah, 'tis cool. Just make sure you've got your own set-up how you want it, then we'll do a quick sound-check before starting. Unless, of course, you want to get a drink with me first," he suggested, raising an eyebrow hopefully.  
  
Ginny turned away. "I don't think I need any alcohol to oil those vocal cords of mine tonight," she said carefully, reaching into her kit for the mike box. "Unless, of course, you think I sing better when I'm drunk?" she threw back over her shoulder, giving him a cheeky grin.  
  
Darren laughed and patted her shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine. "You'll get on, Gin." He continued to laugh as he got off the stage to get his guitar.  
  
Ginny busied herself with plugging her microphone into the eight channel mixing desk, bringing the gain up and checking if the sound clipped or not. Satisfied, she brought a barstool up on the stage and sat it behind the microphone, sitting on it experimentally to check the height of the mike stand.  
  
"Lookin' good," Darren said, heading over to the desk. "Can you chat into that mike for me quickly, Gin? Please," he added as an afterthought.  
  
Ginny moved her face close to the microphone, placing her lips millimeters away from the pop filter. "One, two. One, two. Testing, tuh-tuh-tuh, testing. One, two."  
  
"Perfect," Darren said. "Was the fold-back okay? Too soft? Too loud?"  
  
"It's pretty good," Ginny said. "Maybe a teeny bit more."  
  
"Better?" he asked, adjusting it slightly.  
  
"Testing, one, two," Ginny said experimentally. "Yup. Perfect."  
  
"Fantastic." Darren left the desk and made his own adjustments to his instruments' settings.  
  
Ginny knew he'd be a few minutes more, so saw this as a perfect opportunity to check her makeup and reapply her lipstick.  
  
"Daz. Just running to the ladies'," she said, sliding off her stool.  
  
Darren glanced up. "Women!" he called after her.  
  
In the ladies' room, Ginny stepped up to the sink, and examined her reflection under the harsh fluorescent lighting. The stark white paint contrasted strongly with the pink tinge of her skin and brilliant red hair. She frowned. Pub bathrooms never had decent lighting. She always looked twenty pounds overweight, bloated, bright red and ugly. All the imperfections in her skin; pimples, freckles, mole, scars – the light was kind to none. Realistically, she knew that she was actually quite attractive and that no one could see any of that under the dim performance lights but that was beside the point. She knew it was there.  
  
She brought her face closer to the glass and rubbed at a dab of foundation that she'd neglected to blend properly. She searched her face for other spots she may have missed. There were some specks of mascara and eyeliner beneath her lower lashes. She moistened her finger with a couple of drops of water and rubbed at them, careful not to smudge her eye makeup. They disappeared and the lower eyeliner looked considerably neater.  
  
Ginny moved back from the mirror and studied herself critically. Too fat. Who could ever have predicted that chocolate would make such a great comfort food? Still, it wasn't as if she was showing her naked body to anyone anymore. Her hair needed cutting. There was a point where careless layers turned to shaggy mop. Her eyebrows needed plucking into a more feminine curve, too. They were starting to look like her father's, and that was never a good idea.  
  
She sighed, turning side on to observe the effects of the jangling silver belt she wore. She'd enchanted the tiny bells and stars hanging off the silver threads to jingle in time as she sang. Hermione had taught her the spell. Ginny bit her lip, moving her waist a little and watching the belt dance on her hips. Thoughts of Hermione and Harry and the way things used to be clouded her thoughts briefly, bringing a familiar ache to her throat. She swallowed it, patting her hair into place. She moved decisively, heading for the door.  
  
"Took ya time," Darren said. "Let's start. We can get the first set down by quarter to ten and start again at eleven. That way, we'll only be ten minutes behind and we can go by the hour."  
  
"Okay," Ginny said. She stepped onto the small stage in the corner of the smoky and dimly lit pub, seating herself on the flimsy barstool and pulling the microphone toward her on its stand. She rolled her shoulders and straightened her back, rolling her head gently from one side to the other, stretching the muscles that were guaranteed to hurt tonight in bed. "Which set do you want to do first?" Her hands were shaking. The fleeting glimpse of a raven-haired man in the back of the room had set her nerves on fire.  
  
"Um," Darren said, reading the set list. "Oh... the Imbruglia set, if ya don't mind, Gin. I'd like to start it out soft tonight, get 'em dancing in the next one."  
  
"'Kay," Ginny replied, her eyes drawn to the back of the room again. The man was still there. She wasn't sure if it was really him, but it looked like him, and that was all that mattered. It had been so long... echoes of their last parting began resounding in Ginny's mind, hitting the walls and bouncing back again for another shot, ripping at her heart and tearing at her resolve not to cry. It had been too long.  
  
"...right to go. Ginny? Ginny?"  
  
"Sorry," Ginny said absently, tearing her gaze away and looking at Ginny. She grinned half-heartedly. "Ready to rock and roll."  
  
"Okay," Darren said, unconvinced. "You're okay, right?"  
  
"Definitely," she assured him.  
  
"Okay," he said. "I might do the introducing this time. You got the set list there?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Right, well, it's 'That Day' first, so you get that out while I say 'allo to the punters." He cleared his throat and moved close to the microphone he used to back Ginny's vocals.  
  
"Good evening and welcome to the Fiery Dragon this cold November evening, folks. We're going to play a relaxed set for you now, so kick back and enjoy the music, the fine wine and the good company." He eased back and looked at Ginny, who'd retrieved the correct charts. "Ready?"  
  
"As ever," she said, turning to gaze around the room. Darren's electric guitar cut across her thoughts, playing the opening bars. She waited for the right moment, leaning into the microphone, taking a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders, moving her lips closer, directing the sound welling within her.  
  
"Well, that day, that day. What a mess, what a marvel. I walked into that cloud again and I lost myself. And I'm sad, sad, sad, small, alone scared, craving purity, a fragile mind and a gentle spirit."  
  
She took a quick breath, savouring the cool air as it filled her lungs. Flexing her stomach muscles, she continued, throwing herself into the frenzy of the scattered lyrics.  
  
"That day, that day. What a marvelous mess! This is all that I can do. I'm done to be me. Sad, scared, small, alone, beautiful. It's supposed to be like this. I accept everything is supposed to be like this."  
  
"You can't just accept everything in that cool and unassuming way, Ginny!" he had raged, his green eyes growing angrier by the second. He had taken her arm roughly, shaking it, trying to make her understand. "Can't you see that you're driving me away by not having an opinion?"  
  
"Harry," Ginny had begged, tears streaming down her face. "Don't do this. Not now."  
  
"When else?" he had challenged her, dropping her arm in disgust. "You never listen."  
  
"Of course I listen!" she'd cried, sinking back onto the futon. "I love you that much, Harry, I always listen to you..."  
  
Blinking away the tears that had suddenly appeared in her eyes, Ginny forced away the blinding memory and continued to sing, her voice catching slightly, the story in the song becoming more realistic.  
  
"That day, that day, I lay down beside myself in this feeling of pain," she closed her eyes suddenly, blocking the faces, embracing the darkness. "Sadness, scared, small, climbing, crawling, towards the light. And it's all I see and I'm tired and I'm right. And I'm wrong. And it's beautiful."  
  
"You love me?" he'd said, throwing a cushion across the room and shattering a vase that Ginny would fix later. "You love me?"  
  
"Of course I love you!" Ginny had said brokenly, not even looking at him as she cried freely, the tears dripping from her nose onto her top. "Why are you doing this to me?"  
  
"You don't understand!" he shouted, frustrated again. "I can't make you understand!"  
  
The man was moving across the back of the room. Ginny's heart beat quicker. The tears were threatening to overwhelm her and the only thing she could do was incorporate them into her act, make the punters believe that she sang the words like they were her own and she really felt this messed up inside. But she did. It wasn't a lie. But they—he was moving again! Ginny snapped back to the song, her eyes following the path he took across the room, raising her arm and closing her fist.  
  
"That day, that day, what a mess, what a marvelous mess. We're all the same and no one thinks so. And it's okay. And I'm small and I'm divine and it's beautiful and it's coming but it's already here and it's absolutely perfect..." Ginny's voice trailed off, snatching at a breath, willing it to calm her churning insides. She breathed out slowly, grabbing another lungful, pushing the memories away, and concentrating on the words. She subconsciously wiped the tears from her eyes. The punters were beginning to take an interest in the raw and emotional singing happening but Ginny didn't notice. Everything was in her mind. That look the man was giving her... was it really him?  
  
"I mean, what were you thinking, Ginny? That I'd be happy to see you with him? That I'd be okay with you seeing him on a regular basis? Why didn't you care?" His face took on a haggard expression. "Don't you care?" he whispered, throwing himself on a chair opposite her.  
  
She sat up. "I'm sorry, Harry! I didn't realise that it'd make you upset, I honestly didn't. It was just a class to me, just something extra to fill in the time with. I didn't realise you'd be upset," she'd repeated, searching his face for any recognition of the truth. "He's nothing important to me, he's not even a friend. I didn't even think that you could be upset over that."  
  
"Well, I was," he said, his voice echoing the raw pain she could feel burning up her own throat. She wanted desperately to reach out to him; to collapse in his embrace and cry and cry until the tears were all gone. And he could kiss the salty residue from her cheeks and she could draw her tongue across his lips and everything would be alright again. But—  
  
"That day, that day, when everything was a mess and everything was in place and there's too much hurt. Sad, small, scared, alone, and everyone's a cynic. And it's hard and it's sweet but it's supposed to be like this. That day, that day, when I sat in the sun and I thought and I cried coz I'm sad, scared, small, alone, strong and I'm nothing and I'm true... Only a brave man can break through. And it's all okay." Ginny snatched at the air. "Yeah, it's okay."  
  
Her mind was blank, memories whirling and distorting with reality. Those green eyes flickered in front of her eyes, her body on another plane. She was moving, she realised; she'd stepped off the stool, taken the microphone off the stand and had her eyes closed, microphone clutched in her hand, head bent down, her hips moving and her foot tapping in time to the quick rhythm. Her belt jangled and her breathing grew shallow. She realised she was supposed to be singing. She was. She couldn't drag herself away from the memories. Her voice echoed in the foldback around her.  
  
"Oh, that day, that day, I lay down beside myself in this feeling of pain, sadness, scared, small, climbing, crawling towards this light and it's all I see and I'm tired and I'm right and I'm wrong and it's beautiful. That day, that day, what a mess, what a marvel. We're all the same and no one thinks so and it's okay and I'm small and I'm divine and it's beautiful and it's coming but it's already here and it's absolutely perfect."  
  
"You betrayed me. Maybe you didn't mean to, but you did. You knew I couldn't handle seeing you with him and yet you did it anyway. It's ripped me apart. I don't know what to say. I can't live like this. Live with the knowledge that you see him every week. I hate to do this, Ginny. I hate it. But I love you. And it's ripping me apart. I have to. It's me or him." He wasn't looking at her.  
  
"No," Ginny said, her eyes widening. If she'd been hit with a truck, the force of the tons of weight slamming into her wouldn't have had any more impact than the words he uttered. "Harry. No. You can't do that to me. I'm sorry, I said I was sorry! I just didn't think! I forgot!"  
  
"How could you forget?" he said sadly. "My disease is my whole life."  
  
Ginny paled. "I thought I was your whole life."  
  
Harry was looking directly at her now. "How could you?" he repeated. Ginny felt her insides turn to ice. She was losing.  
  
"That day, that day!" Ginny's mind was beginning to reunite with her body during the short instrumental break. She forced her eyes open and stared out at the sea of attentive, leering faces, searching for the raven-haired man, searching for the one he could be. "That day... that day..."  
  
The memories were coming more clearly now. She hated to remember. But she had to. For his sake. He'd been marred; marred with a disease that made him wildly jealous, irrational, suspicious, easily upset and very easily hurt. But she'd loved him; loved him with her whole being, loved him with more of herself than she'd ever given to anything in the entire world. Her being was entirely wrapped up in him, her thoughts constantly with him, her body constantly craving his tight embrace, the way his warm lips would nuzzle at her ear as he cradled her from behind and she'd laugh, turning to meet his kiss. Craved the beautiful green that burnt a twisted path to her soul, the scent of his skin as she moved her lips across his terrain, gently exploring; she'd craved his laugh, his smile, the words of love he'd softly whisper so that no one else could hear.  
  
But he'd been upset. It had been completely innocent, so innocent that Ginny had wound the threads of alleged deceit around herself tighter and tighter until he'd realised what was happening and she found that she couldn't make it all better anymore. He'd been so frustrated with his own inadequacy to comprehend that she had a life outside of him during the day and so unbelievably hurt that she spent time in a social class with an old friend of his who'd betrayed him over some situation at Hogwarts that he just couldn't find the means with which to forgive. It pained him and tormented him. And Ginny couldn't help it. She couldn't help him to understand the innocence of the situation and most of all she couldn't help him to take away the pain. Nothing could do that but what he dreaded; to be taken away from her and placed under the care of professionals who could teach him to deal with these things.  
  
"Do you want me to go?" he shouted at her. "I thought you loved me!"  
  
"I DO!" Ginny screamed at her, her voice hoarse, her throat aching with a kind of pain that was indescribable to her. "I love you more than anyone or anything in this entire god forsaken world!"  
  
"Then why?" he screamed back. "How can you love a monster?"  
  
Ginny was shocked. "You are not a monster!" she said, horror filling her. "Is that honestly how you see yourself?"  
  
"That day," Ginny whispered, holding up a hand to Darren, curving her fingers, meaning that he should follow her lead and vamp over the familiar chords. "That day, what a mess... a god forsaken mess... that day, that day... what a marvel... and I'm here, and I'm broken... that day... that day... what a mess..."  
  
"Yes," he said, rising to look into the mirror above the jukebox. His shoulders sagged and he fought back the tears. "A hideous monster who can't do anything but scream at the woman he loves more than anything in the world."  
  
"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered, rising from her seat.  
  
He turned and put a finger to his lips. "Listen, Ginny, you never listen," he said.  
  
Ginny kept quiet. She always listened. He was being irrational, she told herself. Wait it out. He'll come 'round.  
  
"I can't take it anymore," Harry said steadily, looking at her. "All the years of fighting for a cause, having it end so suddenly, being reunited with you and falling madly, madly in love...being so completely involved with you... falling under the curse of this disease... making things difficult for you, watching you cope, watching you pick up the pieces and make excuses for me to yourself, I've seen it all and I don't like it." He took a deep breath. "I love you, Ginny, more than I love life and love itself but I can't keep on doing this to you. I'm bringing you down, slowly but surely, and you deserve so much more than that."  
  
Ginny started to protest but he held up a hand, silencing her protests before they passed her lips.  
  
"I love you," he said again, as if wanting to reassure himself that he'd said it. "But I'm going to have to leave you."  
  
Ginny's eyes widened and her mouth fell ajar. He didn't mean—  
  
"One day I'll come back for you, Ginny," he said, coming closer, cupping her cheek with the palm of his hand and looking down into her eyes. "But not right now. Not until I can love you properly."  
  
He leaned forward soundlessly and touched his lips gently to hers, drawing them close together and enveloping her own. He made to move away but Ginny reached out and took hold of his shoulders. She prolonged the kiss, never wanting the moment to end, harbouring a sinking feeling that it would be the last kiss for a very long time.  
  
Harry eventually drew away, sliding his lips slowly from hers and opening his eyes to see mirrored tears in hers. "I love you so, so very much, Ginny."  
  
"Then..." Ginny broke off.  
  
"No." He traced a finger over her bottom lip, studying the ravaged effect of the chewing she'd given it in the past few minutes. "I'll come back for you." He turned.  
  
"When?" Ginny pleaded, taking a small step after him.  
  
He glanced at her before moving through the doorway. "When I'm ready."  
  
"That day, that day, I lay down beside myself in this feeling of pain, sadness, scared, small, climbing, crawling towards this light and it's all I see and I'm tired and I'm right and I'm wrong and it's beautiful. That day, that day, what a mess, what a marvelous mess. We're all the same and no one thinks so and it's okay and I'm small and I'm divine and it's beautiful and it's coming but it's already here and it's absolutely perfect... that day."  
  
Ginny fumbled with the stand as she replaced the microphone, sliding back onto her stool, manipulating her lips across the mike as she sang the vamp, finding her bearings, brushing away the tears that streaked her cheeks and regaining full consciousness of where she was.  
  
"That day," Ginny nodded at Darren, giving him the cue to wind it up. "That day..."  
  
The pub erupted in cheers and whistles from the regulars who put down their beers and applauded. The bar-staff smiled, probably thankful that she'd livened the place up.  
  
Darren leaned over his keyboard and spoke into the microphone. "Thanks, guys," he said. He turned away from the microphone and pulled at Ginny's sleeve, turning her to look at him. "Are you alright?" He was concerned.  
  
Ginny smiled at him, her tears gone. The raven-haired man had disappeared in the crowd and she felt cleansed. Cleansed of the need to cry over her loss and cleansed of the scattered thoughts that had littered her head for years. It had been a very long time since Harry Potter had walked out of her door but she remained faithful that he would return to her side one day. She knew he would. She loved him with more than she had to give and he loved her. He'd be back to stay one day.  
  
"I'm fine," she whispered to Darren. "Britney Spears next, right?"  
  
"You sure you're okay?" Darren said, uncertain. The cheers had turned to pleas for more. Ginny nodded. "Alright. Okay, folks, the next one's a little more upbeat, a Britney Spears tune for those closet fans I know are out there..."  
  
Ginny relaxed, turning to look toward the door. The raven-haired man was standing in the doorframe, watching her. She inclined her head, looking at him inquiringly. He turned the collar of his jacket down and smiled that familiar, dazzling smile at her. She returned the grin and blew him a kiss, which he acknowledged before leaving the pub to walk home. He lived a few blocks from her now. He still hadn't found the strength to finish his counseling and rejoin her but she was confident that the day was coming. It cheered her that he would come to watch after she'd told him not to. She smiled to herself and turned her attention back to the rest of the set. 


End file.
